


Hardware passion

by Longwinterynights



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Clothing Kink, Daddy Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Robot Kink, Scent Kink, Sexual Fantasy, Sharing Clothes, Shirt Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:59:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6066403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Longwinterynights/pseuds/Longwinterynights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick Valentine's shirt full of scents. Head full of memories. Body wanting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hardware passion

Nick’s shirt was crumbled beyond ironing. Aiden picked it up with utmost care. Inspecting the button line with his thumb it became evident machine wash was absolutely out of question. Simple dip in sink and little scrubbing with soap. That was doable. Aiden sighed, hands hiding within the fabric. Despite vivid palette of shades, the shirt didn’t smell bad. Only recently when lying next to Nick half-asleep he had sniffed and realized the lack of human scent. Everyone smelled bit different up close. Nick was like ashtray that someone had spilled oil on.

Aiden went back to bed, curling fingers around fabric. Out of momentary spur he brought shirt over his shoulders and put his hands in sleeves. Shoulder stitchings dropped down on his arms but plenty of fabric at bottom was nice. He could taste the potent smoke burning in mouth. Aiden rolled on his side, snuggling against the pillow. He had all the time in the world today. Time used for resting. He was lying in proper bed instead of bumpy mattress on the floor. This shouldn’t had been this difficult.

Aiden rolled on his back, eyes sweeping the ceiling and lonely lamp that dangled from the supporting beam. His fingers ran through crumbled collar. There was spots and spills here and there. Memory from earlier that week returned. Afternoon in Valentine Detective Agency.

“Why don’t you ever wash your shirt, baby?”  
“Because I’m property of institute. Even when discarded”

Aiden’s finger moved lazily on his neck bone. He hadn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t very good at comforting words but he knew how to kiss the moody robot. Scent of oil travelled far and deep. Aiden had slipped down on his knees. Nick had rejected but couldn’t stop his mouth. Aiden engulfed softly. By the time Nick was in his mouth he said no word, just bit his metallic finger.

Aiden closed his eyes to get a better picture of his muse. There was this scar that travelled left side of face. Starting from bit over chin and cutting lips and continuing up to the nostrils. The line seemed to go on at the nose, gentle as a whisper over the nose bridge, ending before the eye. Aiden’s crossed over his nervous body, hand down and touched himself.

Aiden slowly moved his hand across the hardness. He pondered the origin of man’s scars. Organic skin healed. Nick’s didn’t. Some lines were rough cuts of metal. Others were soft to the touch, cushioned by time. Aiden loved that face. He still wasn’t over the sensation of crossing river of circuits and wires to land to where man had skin and how sensitive it was. He relaxed his legs as his hand moved quicker, taking proper grasp. The union of warm moist lips and unhealing synthetic fabric. His hand moved properly, stopping at top he slid thumb against glans and breathed hard. He felt hot under shirt but didn’t want to get rid of it. He pressed his cheek against fabric. It was like he was there with him. On the top and inside. They had to do a lot mechanical wonders to keep that hip bone strong. Aiden growled, finger tighter. Nick had handcuffs in his drawers. What did he do with those… Aiden wanted to know. His lanky body rose in ecstasy, wanting. Waist pushed up and his hand tightened the pace. Aiden put his clinched fist in his mouth. Teeth dig in, biting himself hard. Heat swept over raw. Couple more strokes and Aiden climaxed in his fingers. And on Nick’s shirt. Damn.


End file.
